


Say 'Rivals'!

by hwire



Series: Say 'Rivals'! [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys Kissing, Happy Ending, M/M, enemies to lovers to friends (implied), slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-09-23 05:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17074667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwire/pseuds/hwire
Summary: Harry never paid much attention to the Quidditch kiss cam.Until, one day he did.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This story is on ff.net under my other name, Ghostryder195.

Harry never thought much of the kiss cam. Though sometimes a tad distracting, it never really crossed his mind. Sometimes if he was lucky, it would distract the opposing seeker long enough for him to swoop in and snatch the Snitch. He considered it an ally of sorts. 

It was a recent development, some Hufflepuff’s idea. Something to keep the crowd entertained if the game fell a little slow. Rules were simple, it would find the two people in the stadium with the most chemistry, and display their faces in cheesy, heart shaped frames for all to see. The two would then feel a deep desire to swap spit, but the enchantment didn't force them. Love was love to the kiss cam, it didn't discriminate, it didn't judge, it didn't force. But the same could not be said for the rest of Hogwarts.  
Regardless if the two chose to kiss or not, it would be the new hot gossip for the next three to five business days. 

No, it wasn't important to Harry. He was quite certain he didn't have much chemistry with anyone, at this point. And the kiss cam would never pick a player anyway. 

Would it?

Harry dashed around the court, a white knuckled grip on his firebolt. Where was that bloody snitch?

Malfoy was close in pursuit, much to his annoyance. The git was always on his tail, certain that Harry had eyes on their target. 

Maybe if you'd actually look around for yourself, we'd find it quicker. 

The wind was strong. Harry didn't here the telltale chirps of the kiss cam. 

He didn't hear the crowd gasp. 

He didn't notice when Draco nearly fell off his broom in shock. 

But the sudden, intrusive urge to kiss Draco Malfoy was impossible to ignore. 

Harry whirled around. Malfoy was still behind him, but he'd gone deep crimson. He had the decency to look panicked. His eyes flickered to Harry's lips. His flush deepened.

Harry balked. He didn't need to look at the giant screen to know what had happened.   
You've got to be bloody kidding me.

Both boys froze in mid air, hovering just feet apart. 

Somewhere in the crowd, a chant rose out. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

The damn spell is defective, Harry decided. There's no way I have chemistry with Malfoy.   
He went over his options. He could fly off and find the Snitch, pretend this never happened and deal with being called a coward. Or he could kiss that bloody git and and deal with the rumors.  
He couldn't win either way, could he?

But let it never be said Harry Potter was a coward. Sighing he slid up to Malfoy, the boy somehow unrecognizable without his typical smirk. He looked bewildered.

“Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!”

Malfoy’s eyes grew wide. “What’re you doing, Potter?”

Harry grimaced. “Giving the people what they want.”  
And with that, Harry grabbed the back of his head and slammed their lips together.  
Malfoy's lips were dry and chapped, and open with surprise. He tasted of sweat and faint peppermint. Instinctively, their lips moved together. The crowd shrieked.  
And suddenly, Harry understood why the kiss cam had chosen them. Suddenly, he wished he had ignored it. 

Because now he knew exactly what he wanted. And now, he'd never be able to have it again. 

They pulled back after that brief moment. Draco a look on his face that Harry couldn't recognize. It vanished quickly and was replaced by a sneer. “You are so dead.”  
He zoomed off.

Harry took to the skies again, sending a pointed glare at the giant screen, which had moved onto another couple. 

And in that moment, Harry decided he hated the kiss cam.


	2. Chapter 2

“What the bloody hell was that, mate?” Ron demanded angrily as soon as his feet touched the ground. “You kissed Draco sodding Malfoy! In front of the entire school!”

“Really?” Harry snapped, dismounting his broom, cheeks a bright red. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Old Lucius will see you expelled for this!”

“Dumbledore wouldn’t allow that.”

“He’s right, Harry,” Hermione said gravely, trotting up to the pair. “You saw what lengths Lucius went to during the Buckbeak incident. Dumbledore couldn’t do anything then.”

Harry froze. Expelled from Hogwarts? That was a nightmare he never wanted to face.

“And, not to mention,” Hermione continued. “Lucius probably isn’t the most...accepting of homosexuality. He’ll burn you alive for kissing his son. He already hates you.”

Harry gave her a look of horror. Homosexualtiy? He hadn’t even thought about that. Kissing Draco had seemed the most normal thing in the world, not the taboo Uncle Vernon made it out to be. 

He was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

********************************************************************************************  
The glare Malfoy gave him at dinner lacked its usual venom, but the new, unknown heat behind it was equally unsettling.

Harry quickly looked away. “What am I going to do?” he moaned.

“Nothing,” Ron replied. “I’m sure Lucius knows by now. You’re a goner.”

Harry slumped face down onto the table.

“But nothing’s happened,” Hermione protested. “Harry hasn’t even be called to see Dumbledore. Lucius wouldn’t have wasted this much time.”

“Maybe old Malfoy is a ponce and doesn’t want his dad to find out?” Ron suggested, helpfully.

“Can we not say that?” Harry mumbled. He didn’t want to think about Malfoy being... gay. It did funny things to his stomach. 

“You need to talk to him, Harry. Apologize. See what the price is for his silence.” Hermione said simply.   
Harry shot up, staring at her. “Are you mad? He’ll kill me, or make me do something equally awful.”

“It’s that, or no more Hogwarts. You got yourself into this, Harry. Pick your poison.”

**********************************************************************************************  
Relax. Harry told himself. It’s not like he’s actually going to show up.

But his hands continued sweating, despite his inner monolog. He didn’t know what he was thinking, slipping that note over to Malfoy during class. He was certain the other boy had read it, if his venomous sneer was anything to go by, but what were the odds he’d actually agree to meet him? The note had been simple, nothing more than a time (4:30) and a place (Astronomy Tower) but it didn’t indicate what Harry’s intentions were. And now that he gave it thought, that seemed a bit foolish. He only wanted to apologize, but given the circumstances, it could easily be assumed that he might want...other things.

No, Malfoy was definitely not going to show up. Never, never, never, never-

“This better be good, Potter.”

Harry yelped and whirled around. Draco stood before him, arms crossed and leaning against the tower’s wall. Harry waited for his adrenaline to ebb before speaking.

“Malfoy.” He kept it simple, figuring a witty jab in greeting would do him no favors.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow expectantly. “What do you want?”

“You came,” Harry said, smartly.

“Yes, well spotted. And to think they call you unobservant.”

Harry ran his hands through his already messy hair, making it stick up more than usual. 

“Look, can we just...talk for a second?”

Something danced in Malfoy’s eyes, but only for a moment before it faded into cool disinterest. “Talk about what, Potter? I am rather certain there is nothing we need to discuss, unless you’ve finally come to your senses and decided to get help with that rat’s nest of yours.” he gestured to Harry’s head. “In which case, I’m sure I could get Pansy to help you, she cut my hair-,”

“Will you cut the shit, Malfoy? I’m trying to apologise.”

Malfoy looked taken aback. “Wait, apologize?”  
Harry grimaced. Best to get it over with. “Yeah… I wanted to say sorry for, you know,” he mumbled the last bit.

“What was that?” Malfoy smirked. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

Harry mumbled again, cheeks flushing.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said, I’m sorry for kissing you!” it came out louder than intended, echoing off the castle walls. Harry slapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. Half the school had probably heard.

Draco grinned in a way that made Harry acutely uncomfortable. “Oh, is that all? Why didn’t you say so?” he seemed to be enjoying Potter’s discomfort immensely. “I will admit I was rather embarrassed, I’d go so far as to humiliated. But you wouldn’t care about that, would you? That was probably your entire goal, wasn’t it?”

“No!” Harry spluttered. “I would never!”

“Oh? Then tell me why you did it.”

“W-what?”

“Must I spell out everything? Why. Did. You. Kiss. Me?”

Harry took an awkward step back. “Everyone expected it,” he finally mumbled. 

“Bollocks. Since when do you do what “everyone expects”?”

Harry racked his brain, trying to come up with an excuse. Why had he kissed Malfoy? Why had the kiss cam selected them in the first place? Most importantly, why did he feel like he needed an excuse? Surely the truth couldn’t be so bad. Could it?

With a sinking feeling, Harry realized that yes, it definitely could. 

“I...don’t know,” he said finally, defeated. “I don’t know. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for embarrassing you.” he laughed humorlessly. “Trust me, it won’t happen again.”

Malfoy looked as if the wind had been taken out of his sails. He said nothing as Harry turned and walked away. 

*************************************************************************

Sighing quietly, Harry rolled over on his side for the umpteenth time that night. Sleep seemed to want nothing to do with him. He had too much to think about.

He asked himself the same question he’d been asking himself for the better part of the day.  
What in Merlin’s name had possessed him to kiss Draco sodding Malfoy?   
Certainly, the magic pull of the kiss cam had to be taken into consideration, but with that aside, the choice has still been his. And he’d done it. In the moment, he told himself he’d done it to avoid looking cowardly, but a nagging in his head told him it might have been something else. Something else he wasn’t willing to put a name to. It was too...surreal. He couldn’t possibly like Malfoy.

Could he?

 

****************************  
Feeling somewhat sick the next morning, Harry realized that the answer was yes. Yes, he could like Malfoy. It was just his luck, to end up liking blokes and then out of all the blokes at Hogwarts, it figured he’d end up liking Malfoy. There was only one thing to do, really. 

Avoid him entirely and pretend nothing happened.

*********************************

“You gonna eat that, Harry?” Ron asked at breakfast, eyeing his blueberry muffin with a longing that could rival a despairing love song.

“What? Um, no. You can have it.”

Ron reached over to take it, but Hermione smacked his hand away, nearly spilling a jug of pumpkin juice in the process. “Leave it, Ron. Honestly, do you ever pay attention? Harry’s barely eaten a thing. He needs it more than you do.”

Ron looked rather offended.

“It’s fine, ‘Mione. I’m not hungry.”

And it was true. He didn’t think he could eat if he tried. Not with the way his stomach was swirling about. And the blank glances Malfoy kept sending his way made everything worse.   
On one hand there was relief. If he hadn’t told Lucius, odds were that he wasn’t going to. But on the other hand, there was the very real possibility that Malfoy would find some other, equally horrid way to exact his revenge. And the waiting was torture.

Malfoy spared him one more glance, and went back to his conversation with Pansy Parkingson, seemingly uninterested in Harry altogether.

*************************************

Days turned into agonizing days and then into weeks. Slowly, Harry and the infamous kiss became old news and the gossipers turned to their next victim. He had to admit, it made it easier to think when others weren’t deciding his mind and feelings for him. So for that, he was grateful. 

But Malfoy’s indifference was nearly unbearable. Where was the anger? The hate? There had been no brutal payback, no cruel pranks. Just cool, simple indifference. 

It was driving Harry mad.

Perhaps that was his plan all along…

Even the rivalry at quidditch had considerably cooled. Malfoy treated him like any other player. Harry simply couldn’t take it anymore. He should count his blessings, Hermione had said. It was nice Malfoy didn’t really pick on them anymore. He’s probably just grown up, she had told him.  
But Harry couldn’t believe it. How could someone as much of a prat as Draco Malfoy just grow up? Harry had angered him. Embarrassed him. And somehow that was enough to knock sense into his head? What about all the other times Harry had done the same, or worse? It didn’t add up. No, something was definitely different this time.

And Harry was determined to find out what.

***************************************

But of course, Malfoy didn’t make it easy for him. Even on the Marauder's Map, he managed to stay somewhat elusive. His dot would appear in the most random, hard to find places.   
It was almost if he was avoiding something. Avoiding someone. 

He would be gone by the time Harry got there. Everytime. It was beginning to get old.

He would slip out of the Great Hall at the end of every meal and disappear long before Harry had hope of catching up. In the hallways, he used the crowds to his advantage, dissolving into them before Harry’s eyes. It was maddening. And as the days drug on, it only got worse.

“You’re obsessed,” Hermione said, matter of factly. “Simply obsessed.”

“Yeah, mate,” agreed Ron. “This is getting a bit much, even for you.”  
Harry soon found it was helpful to ignore them. It gave him distracting thoughts as to why exactly he was so intent on confronting Malfoy, as if his motivations could be anything but finding out what kind of stunt the other boy was trying to pull. It was for everyone’s good, really. Who knows what he was capable of?

Harry stomped onto the Quidditch pitch, broom in hand. They were playing Slytherin today, and he’d be damned if he was going to let Malfoy avoid him again.

*******************************************

Harry swerved out of the way of a careening bludger, eyes scanning the air for a flash of gold and occasionally, a head of platinum blond hair. Harry had never paid much attention to the way Malfoy flew, and found himself regretful for it. He was always to busy trying to beat him to notice the way he handled his broom or slid effortlessly into a turn. It was an art form, really.   
Without thinking, Harry dove after him. 

If Malfoy heard him approach, he didn’t show it. His gaze was fixed firmly ahead, even as Harry sided up to him.

Harry opened his mouth, ready to shout over the wind, and then shut it again. It suddenly occurred to him that for all he wanted to speak to Malfoy, he hadn’t the foggiest idea what he wanted to say. He just wanted something. Some response, some kind of acknowledgement.  
Why couldn’t he get a rise out of him like he used to?

Surely, surely he wasn’t completely insignificant now? 

The jabs and insults were better than this. Anything was better than this. 

Malfoy zoomed by him, hot on the heels of the snitch. Harry raced after him. He wanted to slap that determined look off Malfoy’s face. No, he realized. He wanted to kiss it off.

The thought nearly knocked him off his broom. Panting slightly, he adjusted his grip. 

But the more he thought it, the better it felt. It felt right. More right than anything had in a long time. He liked Malfoy. Bloody hell. He liked Malfoy.

And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.

**********************************  
Harry’s feelings of elation sank with his broom as he landed. Sure, he liked Malfoy. He had accepted that.  
But reality came crashing in and the reality was that Draco despised him. And he couldn’t forget the fact that he’d all but handed the game over to the Slytherins on a silver platter.  
“I can’t believe you,” Ron said as Harry numbly walked past him, his freckled face dark with betrayal. “You lost us the game because you couldn’t look away from Malfoy’s bloody arse.”

Harry had the decency to give him a guilty look. 

Ron’s expression softened to something akin with sympathy, though a fair amount of anger still danced in his eyes.

Harry threw off his gear as soon as he stepped off the pitch. This whole thing was stupid, wasn’t it? Some cruel joke fate was playing on him. He slumped to the ground, flopping onto his back with a sigh. The clouds above him were soothing, and the tall grass around him provided a small amount of privacy. It gave him the freedom to think, but if he was completely honest with himself, thinking is what got him into this mess. Imagine how insignificant that kiss would have been if only Harry had thought less about it. It was important to him because he had made it so. Malfoy was important because he let him be. And now he was left with a raging, unrequited crush. Brillant. 

Sighing, he flung one sweaty arm over his eyes. Dully, he wondered how much of a kick Dudley would get out of Harry’s current predicament. Harry took a great deal of satisfaction knowing that it was one pleasure he could deny the prick.

Suddenly, the warmth of the sun on his skin went cool, a shadow no doubtedly crawling over him. Groaning, Harry moved his arms and irritably opened his eyes, ready to glare acid at whatever little cloud had decided to ruin his sunspot. 

But it wasn't a cloud at all.

Harry’s mouth worked but no sound came out as the blond boy standing above him smirked.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

Harry discreetly pinched himself to insure he hadn’t drifted off in the grass. 

Draco didn’t bother to wait for an answer and gracefully sat down on the ground beside him.

“Don’t for a moment think I didn’t notice the way you’ve been looking at me, Potter.”

Harry finally found his voice. “I- uh, I-,”

“Don’t hurt yourself. There’s no point in denying it.”

Harry sighed in defeat. “I’m sorry, Malfoy. I’ll stop.”

Draco ignored him and continued speaking. “Of course, I wouldn’t have noticed the looks you gave me if I hadn’t been looking right back. So I’ve done some thinking. And there’s no point beating around the bush, is there?”

Harry shook his head dumbly.

“It’s obvious what we both want. And I’ve decided, if you’d like to do it again, you may.”

“Do what?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Kiss me, Potter. Do try to keep up. But I do have conditions.”

Mind reeling, Harry stared at him blankly. 

“Condition one, acknowledge that this doesn’t mean we’re friends or anything more. It’s just for fun, understand?”

Despite the sting, Harry couldn’t really be surprised. It was just his luck to come so desperately close to something he wanted but still have it painfully out of his grip. Still, he didn’t find it in himself to let it be a deal breaker. He had to start somewhere.

“Alright.” he agreed.

“Good. Condition number two, if you tell anyone, I’ll hex your balls off and everything is over.”

Harry snorted. “Doesn’t everyone already know?”

“They know you kissed me, not that I liked it.”

Harry’s grin was nothing short of shit eating, but he held his tongue.

“Three, you will owl me to arrange anything, but not with your owl. Do not speak to me personally, especially in public. Do we have a deal?”

Harry immediately stuck out his hand, despite the little Hermione in his head telling him that this was a very bad idea indeed. He’s literally using you, Harry! She shrieked in his ear. You deserve better than this!

“Deal.”

Malfoy grabbed his hand, and Harry wasted no time yanking him forward and their lips crashed, Draco gasping against his mouth in surprise. 

He could work with this. He had him hooked. Now, all he had to do was reel him in.


	3. chapter 3

Nervously, Harry watched the hourglass in the corner of the transfiguration classroom. It was almost empty. Transfiguration. That was the last class of the day. Then it would be dinnertime. And then it was time to meet Malfoy. It was silly, really. To be so worked up to see someone he saw everyday. But it wasn't exactly the same person, was it? They had their similarities, of course, but the something had seemed different about the Malfoy who invited, or rather demanded, that Harry kiss him again.

Trying to bite down the grin forming on his lips, he thought back to the note he'd received that morning, delivered by a rather grumpy owl that left no question who the sender could be.

_Potter,_

_I'll be on the astronomy tower tonight at 12:30 sharp._

_-D.M_

It was a simple message, looking for all the world as if Malfoy was utterly bored of the situation before it had even began. But Harry knew better. It was a letter of possibilities and Harry was determined to take hold of every one he could. The owl had gone out of its way to nip Harry's ear on its depart, and he couldn't help but wonder if it had been instructed to. Regardless, it had not been able to dampen Harry's good mood. A good mood that had gotten him through the day with a spring in his step that he desperately tried to hide from Ron and Hermione.

A good mood that had done its own transfiguring into a nasty ball of nerves in the pit of his stomach.

Harry tapped his toe anxiously as he watched the sand fall, Mcgonagall's ignored lecture wrapping into a conclusion that had Hermione scribbling furiously with her quill.

What if he wasn't any good at kissing? None of their other kisses had lasted more than a few seconds. What if Malfoy wanted an...extended version? Would he even be able to figure out how? What if Malfoy wanted more than just kissing?

The thought sent an embarrassing shiver down his spine.

Was he even ready for that? He had never given anything along the lines of sex before, the way Ron and the other boys described it just didn't strike his fancy. He swallowed hard. Because they were talking about having sex with _girls._ This was sex with _Malfoy._ Images flicked through his mind. Malfoy- no Draco, stark naked the one time Harry had walked in on him in the prefect's bathroom, drying himself off, completely unaware of Harry's existence. Then he was in Harry's bed, wearing nothing but Harry's own tie, eyes shut, mouth an 'O' of bliss, arching off the bed-

"Alright, students! You're free to go to supper. Remember, your reports on the theory of inanimate object transfigurations is due Monday."

The Professor's voice shook him from his thoughts. He felt his cheeks heat. He was 15 after all, he knew that these kind of thoughts were normal, but that didn't make it any easier to accept.

He was new to this, he decided as he walked to the Great Hall. With Voldemort and Umbridge, who really had time for romance?

* * *

 

Draco was waiting for him when arrived at 12:32 precisely.

"You're late," he informed him.

"Sorry. Had to detour to avoid Filch."

Malfoy looked him up and down appraisingly, and then gave a sharp nod as if to say, "you'll do."

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"Well," Draco finally spoke. "Get on with it."

"Huh?"

"You're a lost cause, Potter. Kiss me, you nutter."

And swallowing down the rest of his inhibitions, Harry did.

And it was soft and sweet and only slightly awkward when Harry missed his mouth at one point, but that soon lead to the wonders of neck kissing, so neither really complained.

It was everything Harry dreamed of.

And so was the next night, and the night after that.

But despite his best efforts, Draco stayed true to his words and never again offered his friendship, or anything more, to Harry.

One night, Malfoy didn't show up.

And Harry knew then that it was over.

The sides of the war had been decided. Everyone was taking their roles.

Even Draco Malfoy.

Everyone, except it seemed, for Harry. He'd known once Umbridge took over, things couldn't last, not as they were. He had a responsibility to Dumbledore's Army, to his friends. But still, a sliver of hope had remained. That one, stupid bit of hope had held out that maybe, just maybe, Draco would see the light.

Harry had long since admitted to himself that he was in love with him.

It was that hope that kept him waiting at the astronomy tower, holding out until dawn.

* * *

 

Malfoy Manor had suffered greatly in the war. The grounds were dry and dead, the vines twisted around the mansion was almost unruly. The rest of it had simply seemed to have began to crumble, as if it had held more dark magic than it could bear.

Harry approached the main entrance anyway.

At 20 years old, Harry would have thought he'd outgrow the nervous jumping in his stomach at prospect of seeing _him_ again.

It had been a year since he'd last seen him, when he had testified at the trials for him and his mother. Each were let off with house arrest for six months.

But there had been no salvation for Lucius. Azkaban for the rest of his days.

Harry stood at the tall black doors before him, wondering how Draco was handling his father's absence. Harry wouldn't know. All he received was a hurtfully formal note of thanks, signed by Draco and Narcissa. That was the last time he heard from him.

He hesitated before pulling the rope that would ring the doorbell. He had unannounced, convinced that if he'd given notice, Draco would find any possible reason to keep him from coming. But he had to. He had to say goodbye to everything that could have been. He needed this to move on.

The doorbell was deafening, sounding a slow, deep chime that made the walls tremble. Harry winced, and waited for the door to open.

It took awhile, but when the door opened, it was not by a house elf, as Harry expected, but rather Draco Malfoy himself.

He looked disgruntled, as if the sound of the doorbell was signaling his untimely death. But the only one likely to die today was Harry, he mused.

He tried to utter a greeting, explain his presence, _something._ But the words died in his throat.

War changes people. Harry knew that. Merlin, everyone knew that. But somehow that change can still come as a shock.

Malfoy had changed.

His hair was long and lose, framing angler face nicely. He'd lost the wizard robes he wore when he was young and replaced them with casual _muggle_ clothes. His eyes looked brighter and his hair gleamed in the afternoon sun. Harry stared. He looked beautiful.

Malfoy stared at him in disbelief. "Potter." he said

There were so many things Harry had wanted to say to him, finally seeing him after all this time, with no war between them. But all that came out was, "You're wearing jeans."

The disbelief was quickly replaced by irritation. "What do you want?"

Harry blinked at him. What he wanted and what he came here for were two very different things.

Regardless he held out the bundle in his arms. "This is yours."

Hesitantly, Draco took the parcel and slowly began to unwrap it.

Soon, the smooth polish of a hawthorn wand sparkled in the sunlight.

"It's my wand," he spoke quietly. "You kept it."

Harry couldn't resist. "Well spotted, Malfoy."

Malfoy glared at him, but it didn't distract from the misty look in his eyes.

Harry grinned.

Slowly, Draco smiled back. "Would you… would you like to come in?" he asked.

Harry nodded, his heart warming "I'd like that very much."

* * *

Thanks for reading! I was gonna add some smut, but I think that would be better as a separate installment to keep the rating T. Expect that soon!


End file.
